


the world is watching (so give 'em a good show)

by moonseul



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: "investigative journalism", Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Idols, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, M/M, POV Outsider, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonseul/pseuds/moonseul
Summary: In his two years as a Dispatch reporter, Chenle has never seen anybody as terrible at keeping their relationship a secret as Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin.Sometimes he even wonders — are they doing this on purpose?
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 61
Kudos: 423
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	the world is watching (so give 'em a good show)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Just wanted to put it out there at the very beginning that there is no stalking / invasion of privacy in this fic, and that the outsider POV observes their secret relationship from public schedules and public spaces.

“ _Entertainment journalism is just like investigative journalism_ , they said,” Chenle grumbles under his breath, hefting his camera bag over his shoulder.

“ _Once you catch your big break in tabloid news they’ll bump you up to the investigation department for sure_ ,” Chenle mimics Renjun’s overly empathetic voice as he cursed, fumbling with his tripod. _Well, it’s been two years and I’m still here._

He elbows the reporters who were jostling for more space next to him on the red carpet.

Chenle sighs again, loud enough for the reporter next to him to raise his eyebrows. Chenle shoots him a glare in return. He’s almost about to say that he’s from Dispatch, maybe give the poor guy a flash of his fancy blue lanyard, but then the first limo of the night pulls up at the entrance, and the area descends into a chaos of camera shutters going off.

At the end of every winter, the Seoul Museum of Art hosts its charity gala. As at any other public event, Dispatch is there to cover the news.

He’s familiar with how these things go: He shows up. Takes pictures. Pretends to not wither inside every time a celebrity whips out some aegyo. Honestly it all runs like clockwork. The entertainment industry is a well-oiled machine that functions because its participants recognize they cannot do without one another. Like how Dispatch cannot survive without ad income from celebrity gossip, celebrities cannot count on longevity if they don’t have the press on their side.

The first man to come down the red carpet is a B-list actor in his forties. Chenle clicks his camera once. _Next_.

The next limo overshoots the red carpet by a good three strides, and its passenger seems to have, similarly, been caught off guard. He emerges from the side door with his coat still on, and good god, those are the ugliest mittens Chenle has ever seen in his life. Brown and yellow zig zags woven in a way that resembled the fuzzy skin of a bumblebee. Chenle’s about to snap a few pictures vindictively, but then the gentleman looks up and _oh_ , Chenle lets out a soft exhale.

It’s Lee Jeno. 

Of course it’s him. The leader of one of South Korea’s rising boybands. He’s got a boyish charm to him, the kind that makes even grown adults relent and close both eyes. Not to say Chenle’s doing that right now, but he waits until Jeno’s removed his ugly mittens before he continues taking pictures.

Jeno stuffs them into his coat pockets, then flashes the crowd a pleasantly wide smile, one bright enough to mirror the flash on Chenle’s camera. His platinum blonde hair has been styled and parted to give that effortless, wind-tousled look. His gentle demeanor and small, cautious steps on the red carpet made it all the more endearing.

Lee Jeno was easy to read, and everyone loved him for it.

This particular trait was a rarity in the industry — Chenle was familiar with this. Many, especially if they started young, hardened over time, building up their walls until all there was left was a cold, steely exterior. Case in point — the next person on the red carpet.

The next gentleman that steps on is, for a moment, unrecognizable. He’s dressed impeccably in a leather suit that wraps around his body in the right ways. Underneath his jacket he wears a thin, beige mesh top that leaves nothing to the imagination, Marine Serre’s tell-tale crescents a brand on his skin. A hand falls out of his pant pocket to sweep a stray strand of hair out of his face, and there he is in his full glory: South Korea’s darling, Na Jaemin.

He has a face that no one can forget, and how can they, if his face is on every subway billboard? A child actor since he was in his teens, Na Jaemin was the nation’s little nephew. At one point, he appeared on KBS, MBC, and SBS in back-to-back dramas. His big break came in his first lead role, not as the sweet, boy-next-door character South Korea grew up with, but as the series’ main villain. And he killed it. His portrayal of the cold, calculating antihero was so raw and believable that it made people wonder if it was really him.

That was the wonder of Na Jaemin and his million faces.

Today, he wears the same placid smile he usually does. He doesn’t stay for too long in front of the cameras. He doesn’t need to, anyway. Everyone can remember his face without seeing it.

* * *

Chenle doesn’t think too much of tonight, a night like any other. 

He grabs a can of diet coke from the vending machine, waits in his car for the event to be over, and then it happens so quickly he doesn’t even have time to take a picture. 

A pair sneaking out of the museum. Thick, hot puffs of air leaving their mouths, even visible from Chenle’s crappy car. Marine Serre’s crescents, barely visible like a half-closed eye, and a pair of brown and yellow mittens between them.

And then they’re running, silhouettes vanishing into the night.

* * *

“I’ve found my big break,” Chenle announces triumphantly the next morning when he catches Renjun by the photocopier.

“I’d love to hear more,” Renjun says, distressed, hands hovering over the catch tray. “But I’m trying to avoid an environmental disaster right now.”

Chenle leans over to see the printer spit out Renjun’s presentation at one grand slide per page. One-sided. In full color. With his natural-born reflexes he reaches over to the big, red button and hits _cancel_. 

“As I was saying, I found my big break,” Chenle repeats to a wide-eyed Renjun who’s got a thick wad of paper in his hands. “Dating exposé.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Renjun responds, intrigued. “Who is it?”

“Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin.”

Renjun chokes on his spit. “No way,” he coughs out once he catches his breath. Between hiccups, he continues, “Good fucking luck, Lele.”

“No no,” Chenle corrects adamantly. He knows what he saw. He remembers it very clearly. “There’s something going on, and I need your help to prove it.”

* * *

“I heard you the first time,” Renjun sighs, looking over Chenle’s shoulder. “But you literally picked the two most opposite personalities imaginable. I don’t even think they know each other.”

“ _Entertainment journalism is just like investigative journalism_ ,” Chenle quotes. “I wonder who said that.”

Renjun opens his mouth and it hangs there, useless.

“That’s what I thought. Now pull up a chair.”

They’re squeezed in Chenle’s cubicle facing his grey, fabric partitioner. Chenle’s got a box full of push pins and print outs of Jeno’s and Jaemin’s Naver profiles to begin with. He pins those to the center of his wall. Briefly, he regrets not paying attention to the idol world until this point. He’s no expert in boyband history, but that’s why Renjun’s here.

“Jeno is an idol. Jaemin is an actor. It’s unlikely that their paths have crossed very much before yesterday,” Renjun says, scrolling through both of their social media feeds. “Jeno doesn’t have his own account and still uses his band’s profile to post his pictures, while Jaemin doesn’t even update his. One post in three months, tops.”

Chenle thinks, hand stroking his chin. This is much harder than he thought.

* * *

Like any other professional journalist, Chenle sets up automatic alerts whenever news of Jeno and Jaemin gets published. He tracks down and subscribes to all of their fansites. He buys a one terabyte hard drive for all the pictures he’s going to have to download and trawl through.

Unfortunately, Renjun is right. Up until the charity gala there hadn’t been any overlapping schedules, so they couldn’t have met at a recording. They could have met privately, but Chenle doesn’t want to go there. Private schedules are a no-go, but public schedules are fair game. 

He sticks to his hypothesis that they met at the charity gala, and wonders what could have possibly happened inside.

In the meantime, the two celebrities continue to keep up with their regular schedules. Jaemin continues to appear weekly on TV as the nation’s heartthrob demon-hunter, and Jeno, alongside his bandmates, appears on music shows to sing about the sweetness of first love. It’s very cute, really, but it’s giving Chenle nothing.

Chenle’s about to give up on his passion project when he stumbles upon an article that Renjun’s queued in the system. He almost spits at his screen. He drops everything he’s holding and sprints to Renjun’s cubicle, yelling his name along the way.

“Ten Celebrities that Have Caused Stock to Sell Out,” Chenle recites from memory. He quips, “Awful title, by the way. Doyoung-nim’s going to give you shit for it.”

Startled, Renjun blinks at him.

“Pull it up, pull it up,” Chenle rushes, crowding around Renjun’s laptop. When he finds what he’s looking for, he points to the screen. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”

Renjun inches forward to squint at his own article.

“Jaemin wore a hoodie and it sold out within minutes?” Renjun says.

Chenle feels like he’s hit the jackpot. He pulls up a picture on his phone and thrusts it in front of Renjun’s face. 

“Guess who’s wearing the same one?”

* * *

It doesn’t stop there. Over the next two months he’s filled his cubicle wall with cold, hard evidence. 

It first starts with the hoodie. Then matching phone cases. Adidas track pants. Stupid, trendy bucket hats.

“We’re wearing the same pants right now,” Renjun points out, looking at their matching Uniqlo slacks. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Those hoodies cost $600 apiece. Coincidence? I think not.”

* * *

By some stroke of luck, Dispatch manages to schedule a rare interview appearance with Na Jaemin, just as his drama nears its finale. Chenle tries to wrestle Renjun for the position, and Renjun responds with a chokehold and strained warning: _Let me do my job you idiot_.

Chenle gladly takes the next best alternative, manning the video camera.

When they arrive at the cafe Jaemin’s already there, sitting by the window. A thin wedge of the afternoon light falls on his cheek and his matte black hair appears to absorb the light. He looks up from his book and waves.

“I ordered some coffee first, I hope you don’t mind.” He gives his cup of iced coffee a shake. 

He looks pristine in a fuzzy chestnut sweater, and less intimidating up close. When he talks his dimples show, and even though Chenle doesn’t ask any questions Jaemin occasionally glances over to acknowledge his presence. Chenle wonders why he’d been so nervous. Throughout the interview he steadily grew warmer in the presence of Jaemin’s radiating kindness, and by the end of it he finally understood his appeal. 

Damn.

“So, Jaemin-ssi, now that the weather is warming up, where is the first place you’d like to travel to, and who would you bring with to celebrate?” Renjun asks. Underneath the table, he gives Chenle a telling kick.

Jaemin sinks his chin onto his palm, humming pensively. Chenle could almost see the flicker of realization in his eyes, right as he snaps his fingers, catching the thought. “I was just thinking about this the other day! It’s been forever since I saw the sea. Anywhere simple is nice, like Busan. And if I could take anybody with me… I’d pick Jeno-ssi.”

“Jeno-ssi, from NCT?” Renjun gasps. “You know him?”

“Ah,” Jaemin smiles, unbothered. “We’re practically best friends.”

* * *

“They’re perfect for each other,” Renjun says in a slow exhale, breath leaving him slowly like a deflating balloon, right after Jaemin stands up to leave.

Chenle leans over, declaring, “You are now officially converted.”

* * *

The Internet goes insane as soon as the interview is uploaded online. Not only does Jaemin now have a best friend, but out of all the possible options, he picks the _hot_ one. Of course he would. Chenle doesn’t expect anything less.

Chenle opens his work email to twenty fan messages about how they think Jeno and Jaemin are the hottest men to walk on Earth together, and mentally, Chenle agrees.

 _My big break is coming_. 

Determined, he catalogues the additional fan theories that have arrived from his twenty minions.

Dispatch’s page views skyrockets, and riding on the trend, other media outlets begin to capitalize on the pair’s multiplied popularity. Ultimately, it culminates in an invitation to guest on Battle Trip together. What’s more, the hosts even promise to send them to Busan.

To Chenle’s surprise, both agencies easily approve the request, and within two weeks a preview for the next episode of Battle Trip appears on TV.

* * *

On the day of, Renjun comes over for a watch party.

With a bowl of popcorn, a pen, and his notebook, Chenle makes himself comfortable on his couch.

The opening sequence feels unbearably long, but finally, Jeno and Jaemin walk onto the stage, dressed in matching earth-toned colors. Seeing them sitting next to each other feels like a fever dream. Occasionally, Jeno sneaks Jaemin a little smile, and Jaemin returns the sentiment with a gentle squeeze of Jeno’s knee when he thinks the camera isn’t on him.

“I hope you’re recording this,” Renjun chimes.

Before broadcasting the content the two filmed in Busan, the hosts ask how the two of them met.

The pair open their mouths at the same time, and noticing this, they make eye contact and chuckle.

“I’ll take this,” Jaemin says, giving Jeno another pat now on the boy’s upper thigh. “We actually only met a few months ago at the Seoul Museum of Art charity gala. We were sitting at the same table, and it was so cold that when we shook hands he asked me if I needed mittens. And then he pulled out these _huge_ mittens from his coat—”

“Oh my god, will you _stop_ ,” Jeno panics, wrapping his arm around Jaemin’s shoulder to pretend to cover his mouth.

“And that’s how we became friends,” Jaemin concludes at the end of his short story. He leaves out all the juicy details, as he should, and this leaves Chenle entirely dissatisfied. 

He watches their trip to Busan intently, scribbling down timestamps so that he can come back to them later. 

It had rained the entire time they were in Busan. The streets were covered in puddles as deep and wide as a river. In the horizon the fog hung like a curtain, the air so dense it was thick enough to mute even the vibrant colors of Gamcheon Culture Village. Despite the weather, the smile on Jeno’s face never once faltered. They shared an umbrella so that they could fit within the same frame, and by the end of it one side of Jeno’s shoulders were wet.

They fell into pace perfectly, their company practiced enough to deceive those who didn’t know that they’d only known each other for three months. To an outsider, they could have been childhood friends.

At the end of their weekend trip, Jaemin took Jeno up to the observation deck on Hwangnyeongsan. The fog had barely let up, and it appeared as if they were among the clouds. With hands over Jeno’s eyes, Jaemin led Jeno to the edge of the deck.

“Don’t open your eyes,” he said, trailing behind Jeno’s shuffling feet.

“How can I?” Jeno laughed.

Jaemin removed his hands, whispering low: _Surprise_.

At once, the LED boards lining the parapet began to blink, words crossing the dark patch of night to surround them in a circle of stars.

_The weather was cloudy, and it wasn’t a good day, but with you everything in Busan is dazzling. I’m so glad we met. Jeno-ya, I love you~_

Behind him, Chenle hears the sound of Renjun sniffing. When he turns around, Renjun’s face is wet.

* * *

Almost six months later, Chenle’s cubicle wall is bursting full of screenshots and string. He’s collected enough evidence to make conspiracy theorists proud. And yet, he continues to sit on the exposé. He thinks they could be happy like this, in their own protected bubble, and as soon as it pops it will never be the same. For the first time in his life, Chenle feels conflicted.

Whatever. He shrugs, knowing he had no damning evidence of them dating anyway.

Chenle sighs, letting his Subway sandwich go limp in his palm. Subway had run out of Italian herb & cheese, and he was left with yucky multigrain. A stray piece of lettuce falls out. He turns off the ignition so that he can finish the rest of his dinner in peace, parking by the roadside.

Just as he’s about to take another bite, his eyes catch a pair of shadows darting across the road, stumbling up the curb and into the spotlight from the streetlamp above. In the stillness the milky light seemed to boil dust clouds, and Chenle saw ever so clearly Na Jaemin’s face, sculpted in light and darkness. Of all the times, and of all the places, they choose to come here.

Jaemin holds Jeno by the waist tightly, as if he might be blown away by the wind. Their mouths are open and their shoulders are heaving — from running or from laughing, Chenle can’t tell. They are wrapped up in each other’s company, oblivious to the world around them, and Chenle feels a sudden urge to protect this.

Jeno pulls Jaemin by the boy’s collar, out of the light and into the shadow behind them. Their figures are shrinking, intertwining. Then, the unmistakable merging of their silhouettes, first by the head, then chest, then body.

Alarmed, Chenle shields his eyes with his sandwich. 

His phone and camera sit next to him untouched. He doesn’t start his car, for fear that it alerts them of his presence. He waits until the two figures have run off into the night.

When the night sinks back into its usual quiet, Chenle sticks his keys into his ignition, smiling.

Gladly, he drives away.

**Author's Note:**

> ✿ alt fic summary: in which chenle becomes a nomin shipper ([obligatory meme](https://imgur.com/a/6HHzmAV))  
> ✿ shoutout to bernie's brown and yellow mittens ✊


End file.
